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#extra canon content
1pcii · 3 months
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oh, you like the idea of zolu or find the fancontent cute but can't bring yourself to ship it because you HC Luffy to be aroace? (ignoring that asexuality and aromantisism exist on a spectrum. and that QPR's/relationship anarachy are a thing). should we tell everyone??? should we throw a fucking party???
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prince-peachie · 2 years
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Here’s your daily dose of serotonin everyone
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The day Neil and Andrew got ‘engaged’ so to speak was an uneventful day. Some decade had passed since they’d been together, and by now they had settled into quite the life. Same pro team, a house together, the cats. Life together was good.
It was in the off season, so the pair were able to just spend time at home. They were watching TV on the couch, some show to fill the noise, Neil was only half paying attention. Something Neil hears vaguely on the TV triggers his thoughts.
“Should we be married?”, Neil asks.
Andrew pauses before saying “probably”.
“Okay,” Neil replies, “can we get married then?”
Andrew looks at him for a long moment, sees the seriousness in Neils face. “I’ll organise it this week.”
That was all they said about it. It was unspoken that they did not mean the typical marriage, with a wedding, but the binding between them under the law. However, one aspect left Neil unsure, and it picked at him for the rest of the afternoon.
When they went to bed that night, Neil asks.
“Can we have rings?”
“You can’t wear a ring when you’re playing exy you know.” Andrew says without looking up from his book.
“I’d take it off for games, or wear it in the off seasons. It’d be more for the symbolism anyway”, Neil shrugs.
“Since when do you care about symbolism?”
“Since you gave me a key and called it home, remember? Since you.”
A pause.
“I hate you.”
“So a yes to the rings?”
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yuriyuruandyuraart · 9 months
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i just wanna see more of these two dorks interacting omg >:'D <333
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nerdie-faerie · 1 month
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I'm once again thinking about the missed opportunities to have Klaus and Kol bond more. Part of Klaus' whole motivation as a vampire is to get his werewolf part back and to finally be stronger than Mikael (sort of, I'm simplifying) both of which can be obtained by breaking his curse. But Kol? Kol is the only other original that can relate to having a fundamental part of themself ripped away from them. Klaus might not have known he was a werewolf until he killed, but he likely still had a connection he couldn't explain, as evident by him going to watch the wolves transform. And something he'd never been able to explain was now gone. He might only be able to realise the connection afterwards through its absence.
Kol though. Kol had grown up with magic, a connection to nature and the world around him in a way the rest of his siblings supposedly didn't have. And then he gets turned. And not only has his baby brother died, his father has just murdered him and the rest of his siblings after forcing them to drink human blood, which he'll later learn. Now, not only does he have to deal with the grief of Henrik's death and also his own but also the loss of his magic. A loss that's likely only worsened by Kol being a self-proclaimed child prodigy.
Kol is pretty much the only one who could understand what Klaus is going through with the binding of his wolf. We know Kol searched for ways to get his magic back/carry on practicing magic in the same way that Klaus was looking for ways to break his curse. While Klaus likely could still feel his wolf there despite being bound, Kol has no access to his magic anymore. I just think they should've been able to bond or connect over their shared loss of an intrinsic aspect of their selves at the hands of their parents
#TVD#The Mikaelsons#Kol Mikaelson#Klaus Mikaelson#briefly back on my the originals shouldve gotten to be a family goddammit and as someone from a big family im personally offended bs#i did right a lil snippet about them bonding over this that i havent posted yet for the joml verse but still think its an unexplored concep#need more witch!kol acknowledgement honestly. just need more content of my boy#anyway. klaus having a fascination with the moon and kol telling him about celestial events and how it affects his magic when theyre boys#klaus losing that connection to the moon feeling lost & extra tempermental feeling his wolf claw at its binds and vowing to break his curse#kol determined to get his magic back at any cost relating to that devasting loss and promising to help him find a loophole for his curse#kol who becomes extra reckless and determined when he learns that theres a way to break klaus' curse so maybe he can get his magic back too#that knowledge and recklessness combined with his loss of magic driving him to become the volatile vampire that we see#that leads to him being daggered repeatedly but that first time breaks something in that bond between him & klaus that never fully recovers#it makes him bitter and resentful only fueling his reckless behaviour particularly when there seems to be no leads on reclaiming his magic#that he becomes distant from his siblings in the process especially with finn still daggered but that distance only cements the idea#to his siblings that hes a danger and cant be trusted that he needs to be daggered if theyre to stay safe from mikael#the loss of his magic leading to his spiral as a vampire and him being ostracised by his family > actual tvdu kol canon#klaus being trapped in a room staring at the corpse of his little brother knowing he never repaired that relationship with him#and now he never can so he refuses to look away as penance and a reminder of his failings to his little brother#*edit: one of the reblogs on this post is the author of big bad wolf and honestly she does an amazing job at portraying the mikaelsons#as actual siblings if you havent read it its one of my favourites for characterisations but we need more 😭 i want it to be the norm
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confused-disaster32 · 3 months
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Hi! So you can call this a rant or a vent or whatever I don't rlly care - I just wanted to put some of my opinions out there bc it is eating me inside out to keep my opinions on Alastor's sexuality and all of the discourse about him being shipped to myself.
Also i'd like to state that I'm writing this as someone who is aroace but has no actual wish to be in a romantic relationship and actually struggles to so much as picture what that's be like for myself. I would also like to state how I'm not speaking for the whole community and others will have different opinions to myself.
Firstly - aroace is a spectrum (as someone who is on the aroace spectrum btw) and I completely agree with ppl who say that it is a spectrum and shipping has always existed and you can't rlly stop an entire fandom. My only problem is when ppl completely ignore that he is aroace while doing this, bc to me it seems like there's so much potential to having him have to go through those types of emotions and to write him off as if he's completely allo not only can make some people feel unseen but also just isn't as fun.
Also I kind of believe that he'd possibly date someone for the entertainment - like even if he didn't exactly feel romantic attraction maybe he'd be willing to be around someone closely bc he might like the reactions he'd be getting. (example: he might've stayed in a relationship with Vox maybe not out of pure attraction but if he found out that affection could make the TV short-circuit? He'd be interested)
Adding to that, I personally do not actually ship him with anyone romantically due to his character + the fact that I am projecting my own distaste for romance on him but you do you ig.
Also, on the note of nsfw around him - sometimes you cannot stop a fandom, rule 34 exists and some people who are asexual sometimes may want to have sex and all of that stuff. Personally I think he'd probably be sex-repulsed due to the fact that he canonically has issues with being touched.
ALSO, i personally think that way too many people are brushing over the idea of putting Alastor in a QPR - like that would literally be so awesome.
Alastor x Rosie? Cute af (to me Rosie gives of aro vibes too, but more romance - favourable) like they're already besties and honestly I think that Rosie would defo help him figure out about his identity considering that he's quite obviously not all that sure about slang and stuff.
Vox x Alastor - It has the potential to be SO FUCKING FUN like, you get to experiment with how they feel for each other, maybe what Alastor's got going on bc he died before being aroace was rlly a thing and he'd be confused about how he felt about Vox for sure.
Lucifer x Alastor - I quite like it, ik that Lucifer is supposed to be with Lillith but she did take an extremely long hiatus on her family up in heaven so i think it's okay. Plus the idea of them bonding and becoming close due to Charlie is wonderful.
Even angel and Alastor - maybe after Val Angel doesn't want a super sexual relationship - maybe he's not all that interested in something purely romantic either and though I love huskerdust this would still be pretty cool.
Really all I'm saying is; be considerate. Incorporate the fact that Alastor is Aroace, even if you do ship him - in or out of QPRs - and ofc sometimes writing someone who is part of a group ur not in is difficult (coming from someone who often struggles in writing especially when it comes to romance) but taking a crack at it might actually turn out to be rlly cool.
But please don't ignore his aroace-ness, there's not a huge amount of aroace characters out there and acting like someone isn't can be annoying for ppl who want to find rep around their identity, esp if they haven't seen much before (I can relate and he was one of the first aroace characters I was introduced to after I found out what it meant).
So yeah, that's my piece.
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poorlittleyaoyao · 8 months
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oh my gosh and what if JIANG CHENG was the one who found A-Yuan in the tree so A-Yuan grew up in Lotus Pier as an adopted Jiang and alongside Jin Ling, so eventually we not only have Jin Ling processing that he doesn’t hate the two guys who killed his father, but also have A-Yuan processing that his childhood friend’s family annihilated his? and also now Jiang Cheng has TWO children.
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echo-goes-mmm · 3 months
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Ambrose and Elliot #27
Masterpost
Previous
Next
Warnings: oral dub-con, implied non-con, starvation, violence
Master and his friends had passed out, finally. After hours and hours of drinking and sex and entertainment, they had fallen asleep. 
It was late, but he couldn’t bring himself to rest. He lay on the floor, naked and cold, dried cum sticky on his sore thighs.
He stared up at the ceiling. His throat hurt, angry bruises blossoming over his skin. One of Master’s friends, Mr. Horneswood, had slammed his head against the floor, and it was only now that his vision had quit fading in and out and his nosebleed had stopped.
Master had never let them be so violent with him before. Beatings and getting choked was nothing new, and Master had chastised them for going too far several times. But not today.
He really thought they were going to kill him this time. He’d never passed out from being strangled before, and they had never hit his head until now, much less slamming it into the hard marble floor. Twice.
Hunger rumbled in his stomach.
He turned his head to see the table. It was half covered in near empty bottles and glasses, but there was food at the end.
He licked his lips. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and if everyone was asleep…
He slowly got up, wincing as he went. Master wouldn’t notice if a few rolls went missing. 
Master had put out so much food, and his friends were more interested in getting drunk, so nearly all of of it was untouched.
He ate cheeses and fruit, pastries and rolls, and even dared to sneak some of the delicious roasted duck.
It wasn’t until he was full, sitting next to the table, that he realized.
Master had forgotten his chains.
Usually Master made sure he was in shackles when his friends came to visit, just to be certain he couldn’t get away from their lust.
Not tonight. Tonight he was unrestrained. He hadn’t even noticed until now.
He looked back at Master and his friends. They were still completely passed out, sprawled out on couches and slumped in armchairs.
He could run. There was nothing stopping him.
Nothing, except… what if Master caught him? He would be so angry. Master would beat him to death if he left.
They’ll kill you if you stay, said a tiny part of him. You know they will. You can’t keep doing this.
He bit his lip. Master was all he knew, his everything. It was the only thing he was good at; serving as his slave was his entire purpose. It was what he was made for.
What else could there possibly be?
You are going to die here.
The tiny part was right.
He grabbed his discarded clothes, tugging on the threadbare shirt, boxers, and pants Master had allowed him. 
He stole a cloak off the coat rack and ran out the front door, pulling the hood over his hair.
He ran, and ran, and ran, and his legs hurt and his head pounded but it was better than death and blood and Master.
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He should have stolen some shoes. He limped along, blood from the pads of his feet staining his trail. 
Dawn had come and gone, but he didn’t stop moving. Couldn’t stop moving.
He avoided the roads, instead sticking to the woods. He couldn’t risk being seen yet. Master had horses, and money, and might pay someone to look for him.
It was a hot day. Sweat dripped down his face and soaked his clothes, the salt stinging the cuts on his legs courtesy of the wilderness.
He tripped over a stone early in the night, and torn a toenail clean off, which hurt like hell.
His legs were sore too, knees on fire and thighs chafing from the dried cum and fabric rubbing the skin. 
Maybe it would be worth it to find some water and rest.
___________________
After hours of trekking through the woods, he heard running water. He picked up the pace, jogging towards the sound.
It was a small creek, secluded and quiet. Good.
He stripped off his clothes and waded in. It was freezing cold, goosebumps forming on his skin. He crouched down and drank some of the water, soothing his dusty throat.
He splashed some of the water on his face, wiping away the sweat. He washed off the best he could, and crawled out of the creek. There was a flat rock nearby, and he laid the cloak down on top of it. 
A few hours of rest couldn’t hurt.
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He followed the creek after his nap. It would get to a river eventually, and maybe lead to a town where he could beg for some scraps.
He should have stolen the rest of the food at Master’s house. Idiot.
The creek did get bigger, but instead of bringing him to a river, it ran by a traveler’s campsite. The road must be close.
The campsite had just been used, fresh but cold ashes in the firepit, and fresh horse manure still buzzing with flies.
There were berry bushes nearby (unfortunately inedible ones), and he was struck with a thought.
His white hair was identifiable. No one had white hair, Master said so. Master said he was so pretty with white hair. It was why he was allowed to exist; it made him good enough to live despite being a stupid slave who couldn’t do things right.
Master could find him if his hair was still white.
He pulled off the berries, crushing them in his hands. He slathered his hair with them, staining the white to brown. Much better. He pulled his hood back up and followed the horse tracks to the road.
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The road led to a city, and he kept his head down passing through the gates. The guards didn’t even look at him.
There was a tavern just next to the gates, and the smell of food made him hesitate. It was a busy place, even had some stables attached.
He bit his lip.
He didn’t have any money. He went around the stables, and there was a dumpster out back. He peered into the trash, but he couldn’t see anything he could eat. Damn.
The back door to the tavern opened, and he backed away. Not fast enough, because the tavern owner spotted him immediately.
He scrambled away, but she grabbed him by the arm.
“What’re you doing?” She growled. “You a nasty little thief?” She shook his arm, and he whimpered, shaking his head.
“I- I was just hungry-”
She let go of him and he stumbled backwards into the ground. “‘M sorry! I just wanted to look in your trash!” He started to cry.
“Hmph.” She crossed her arms, staring him down.
“Please don’t call the guard,” he begged, sobbing. “I’ll go away, I swear.”
“I don’t like beggars,” she said. “So come here.”
She was going to hit him, and he deserved it for bothering her. He shakily got to his feet, and limped forward.
“There’s a pile of dishes in the sink. Scrub ‘em.”
“W-what?”
“You scrub the plates,” she pointed at him, “and you get food. That way you ain’t beggin’.”
“Thank you! Tha-”
“Shut up.” She turned and walked inside, and he followed.
There was in fact a sink piled full of dishes, and he got to work scrubbing them clean. The kitchen was hot, but he didn’t dare take off his cloak. He was so hungry he was lightheaded, and the smell of food was torture to the gnawing ache in his belly.
The dishes kept coming, and he ignored the strange looks from the wait staff.
After a few hours, the tavern owner handed him a package wrapped with paper.
“Get out.”
He left without argument, opening the package and eating as he walked.
The sandwich was the best thing he ever tasted.
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The second town he came across, the innkeeper let him sleep in the stables in exchange for scrubbing stains out of sheets. 
The third city tossed him out before he could offer anything, and he stole some apples from an orchard by the road before getting scared off by barking dogs.
He had a bad feeling about this next town. 
The innkeeper was at the counter, and it was not busy at all. It creeped him out. “How many nights?” asked the keeper, a flat tone to his voice as he scribbled in his ledger.
“I, um. I don’t have any money,” he admitted, “but um, is there anything I can do for you?”
The innkeeper slammed the book shut, and he jumped. The innkeeper looked him up and down, leaning back in his chair.
“I’m just hungry,” he said weakly, “do you have any scraps?”
“Nope. Get out.” 
“Please,” he tried again. “I’ll do anything.”
The innkeeper stood up. “I said leave.” He began to shove him outside, and he stumbled, bare heels digging into the wood.
“I’ll blow you,” he blurted, and the innkeeper paused. He held his breath. Why did he offer that?
The innkeeper grabbed him by the arm, dragging him into the back.
The innkeeper tossed him across the room. He swallowed, his mouth going dry. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The innkeeper stalked forward, and he dropped to his knees, tongue lolling out. The innkeeper unbuckled his belt and he knew what to do.
The innkeeper was rough and impatient, and he let the innkeeper fuck into his throat. He just wanted it over. The man grunted, finishing into his mouth, and he was hungry enough to swallow the cum without hesitation.
“Good enough,” said the man, tucking himself back into his pants, and relief flooded him. “Wait here.”
He got a hunk of cheese and a loaf of bread for the trouble.
“Next time offer your ass,” said the innkeeper with a nasty grin, “and maybe I’ll let you sleep the night.”
He scrambled for the door, laughter trailing behind him. There wasn’t going to be a next time.
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There was a next time.
There were several next times, all of which he tried to avoid but couldn’t if he wanted to eat.
He didn’t sleep in the cities anymore, too scared after someone forced themselves on him while he slept exposed in the stables.
That time, the innkeeper was even angry to find him still in the hay the next morning, and had used a horsewhip to punish and chase him out.
He trudged along the road.
Gods, he was so hungry. He felt faint, a chill to his bones despite the sun beating down on him.
He’d been heading north the whole time, and now the cities and towns were few and far between.
The last stop was pleasant, the woman who owned the lodge only asking him to sweep the floor in exchange for a bowl of chicken and rice.
That was a week ago.
The berry bushes along the road were bare now, the birds plucking them empty. He chewed on tree leaves and ate dandelions when he could, but it did little for his stomach.
Please, he prayed to the gods, I know none of you care, but please.
Maybe he should have stayed with Master.
He shook the thought from his head. Anything was better than Master.
Even if it was starving to death in the wilderness.
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The road became thin and rough. It narrowed down to a single cart wide and he wondered if he had walked to the end. But over the horizon was a blurry shape beneath the setting sun, and he dared to hope it was either a village or that he was finally dying and was hallucinating.
He kept walking.
It was a village, with an inn.
He stumbled through the door as nightfall fell.
The tavernkeeper was at the counter, and there was a small crowd in the dining room.
“Please,” he slurred, ready to offer whatever was left of him.
But the tavernkeeper held up a hand to stop him.
“I’ve heard of you,” he said, and his heart sank. Did Master know too? “You’ll do anything for a meal and a bed for the night, right?”
Not necessarily a bed, but he nodded, the effort making his head pound. 
“I want a private conversation with you in the morning,” said the keeper, his expression hard to read. “That’s all. I'll even throw in breakfast afterwards.”
He stared at the tavern keeper.
“Yes, sir,” he rasped. No one had ever offered him breakfast. Was it a trick? Too keep him here longer, so that Master would come and drag him away?
The keeper gestured for him to sit at the bar, and disappeared into the kitchen.
He returned quickly with a bowl of stew and a crust of bread, and, of all things, a mug of warm cider. 
He never had cider before. Master never allowed him to drink.
The tavern keeper told him where his room (a whole room? with a bed? and a lock?) was, and left him alone to eat.
The food was amazing, and he had to stop himself from scarfing it down and making himself sick. He’d made that mistake before, and completely lost his meal. He remembered crying over the vomit.
The bed was just as good as the food, but he couldn’t close his eyes.
What if the innkeeper told Master where he was? How long would it take Master to come for him?
He rolled over in the bed.
Surely the tavernkeeper wanted more than just talking.
If he were smart, he’d sneak out before dawn. But the keeper promised breakfast, and he wasn’t smart.
He couldn’t pass up two meals in a row. It was too tempting.
He thought about the mysterious generosity of the cider, and the sweet taste of the apples used to make it.
This could be his last night alive before he died by his Master’s hands.
He cried himself into a fitful sleep.
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sadberrystuff · 5 months
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just watched the Juno Steel couples therapy episode- sorry I meant Juno Steel and the Things We Buried live recording
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lunar-nebulari · 5 months
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Nobody ever talks about Johnson but I wanna talk about him so bad
Ngozi made like such a complex character and just like rarely ever talks about him! But I wanna know more about our 4th wall breaking, weirdly philosophical goalie!! I have so many questions!!!
I wanna know how he feels about his situation! Like does he love it, hate it, or just view it as a natural part of his life that he can’t run away from??
How does he feel about the main characters? Like does he mentally view them as his best bros because he knows everything that has happened or will ever happen to them? Or does he resent them because they all have the spotlight and he’ll never be the main character?
Has he known since he was born that he was just a side character in a story surrounding someone that doesn’t even exist yet? OR does he recognize that his backstory never really happened and he was only truly “born” when Bitty came to Samwell?! But even then, did he always know or did he have to meet Bitty and learn that?
Did he feel the end of the comic coming??? Did he try to stop it or did he just realize that he was powerless and let it end?? Does the fact that the comic is done mean that he’s dead or frozen in time???? I NEED ANSWERS.
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nerdinsandals · 8 months
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Happy Conway Day from Paldea! 💃💃
I can't believe I never did anything for Conway Day that incorporated some of my culture before. But with Gen 9 taking place in the Iberian Peninsula, I couldn't miss the chance! So it took them to a typical Spanish summer feria so they could dance and enjoy some good food~
The song I used is Odore Feria, the Japanese version of a very popular sevillana by Cantores de Híspalis. Since the DP cast is all Japanese, I thought it would only make sense to use a version they could understand, haha.
The lyrics you can hear in the clip mean "Let's dance (x3), let's dance sevillanas! Let's dance together (x2)!", nothing too complicated but I still wanted to include the translation just in case!
Also, here's the still of Conway pretending to be a cool pro dancer with his castanets:
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fumifooms · 2 months
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fumi i hope you know that in an extra of how laios' party is formed he is explicitly banned from getting a crush on marcille.
like i know you went in depth on the trauma he has because of humans on your laimar post about the succubus but please know that he was explicitly banned its so goddamn funny.
im crying laughing while typing this out happy laimar love loses 🥂
Lmao yeah 🥂
It’s a very fun comic! The marriage seeker mystery can finally be put to rest 😌 I don’t really think it changes much, that it overrides anything we knew or that I theorized, esp since we already knew about the party-wide romance ban, but the meme potential (and fic potential) IS so strong now that we know Laios was the one most targeted and distrusted of all… And trust was the biggest issue, romance brings nothing but trouble in their minds but the trouble they experienced with the marriage seeker was because she was disingenuous and manipulative and Laios was oblivious, and as time went on the party realized that Marcille was trustworthy and they stopped worrying about that particular scenario happening. It can def bring a new meaning to the "This is my succubus?!! No one can see it no one can know AAAAA" line though lmfaoo. It’s so funny and honestly such a win for aroace Laios
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nickysescapism · 6 months
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gonna make myself a lot of enemies for saying this but friendly reminder that headcanons and fanons are just that.
also tsc is not a fanfiction. demanding/hoping (non canon) ships will happen will only disappoint us once the book is out. it's been 10 years of us creating our own versions of the characters and their lifes after aftg, so it's understandable that it's difficult to switch back to/remember strictly actual canon stuff. I fell in love with what fandom did to the characters and even created a few headcanons myself. but this is nora's book, it's her story. she will do with it what she wants - as she should. and while we don’t have to like the final product (just ignore it if we don’t agree with it) we should not harrass or bully her into making this book into a pleasing-the-fans fanfiction.
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vyingeyes · 8 days
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Project Crown - 2 - Recovery
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Myth’s favorite place in Tipoca City had to be their barracks. The stark white tiles might freeze bare feet and blind unsuspecting eyes from time to time, but they were consistent. Quiet peace compensated for the lack of privacy that came from being bunked with other squads, and a sleep pod was about the closest thing any of them had to a personal space.
Myth’s least favorite place had to be the hangar. The only experience he had with it was during storms, so he had only ever seen the metal floor slick and hazardous. Freezing sheets of rain blew in from the open bay doors, and the chaos of everyone running around trying to get sorted sent him into a tizzy of his own. It probably didn’t help that every time ended up in the hangar, it was due to a situation that did nothing except cause him stress. It didn’t matter that there were other, less-severe places in Tipoca that he was subjected to more frequently—the hangar was just worse.
“When we touch down, I want 48 and 8ball to help Course to medical. Myth, with me.”
The transport ship rocked ominously in the gale of the storm as Kyr gave them their instructions. Myth found himself relaxing despite it. If he was with Kyr, that meant he’d probably be doing something administrative. Helping with the combat report, maybe, or recounting inventory and expended supplies. No matter what, it would almost certainly be better than a trip to the medical bay.
8ball seemed to think the same. “I’m sure 48 could take Course alone,” the scout implored. “Or, hell, Course could probably get to the medbay on his own?” He inched a bit closer to Myth.
Kyr fixed a tired glare on 8ball. “No. You were both there when Course got hurt, you’re responsible for making sure he gets helped.”
8ball bristled immediately. “He was supposed to be the one watching for bugs! I was shooting an SBD—and so was 48! You can’t just put us on babysitting duty because you’re mad you didn’t do anything to stop Course from—”
“He can.” Course’s voice cut in flatly, immediately shutting 8ball up. “He is squad lead, and he tells you what you do, where, and when.”
Blood buzzed in Myth’s ears at the undercurrent of anger in Course’s voice. Course was… not frightening. None of his brothers were frightening. But Myth hated conflict on a good day, and today… hadn’t been a good day. And Course was never the one to start a conflict. He was the closest thing they had to a mediator—the only one that could ever hope to redirect Kyr—and hearing him with that barely concealed hint of something boiling under the surface did frighten Myth.
“—miserable existence! Ooh, wow, he’s got a fancy title! He’s still got the same brain as any of us!”
Uh oh. Myth missed the first half of that, but it didn’t take an information analyst to see that 8ball wasn’t responding well to Course’s attempt at grace. His mouth opened uncertainly, but he quickly shut it as 48 began to speak.
“Shut up, man.” Myth could hear the rolling eyes, even if his brother still wore his helmet—48 was not impressed. “It’s been a long day already. Do you have to do this right now?”
It was as close to defending Kyr as 48 would get right now. Probably more for Course than anyone else, but Myth doubted any of them were enjoying this argument. Green Squad, silent backdrops in the dim transport, made no attempt to intrude on this display. Pull and Push shared a look, and Myth’s stomach dropped.
“It won’t take too long,” Myth blurted. “If you just get out of the ship as quickly as you can and go directly to the medical bay—you probably wouldn’t even have to stay to explain the situation to the medical droids, Course is awake, and it isn’t like there’ll be any trainers looking to cause problems right now with everything going on—”
“You’re stressing Myth out,” 48 interjected, annoyance growing. “Just suck it up.”
8ball elbowed 48 in retort, but he turned to glance at Myth, eyes searching for a moment. “… Fine. I’ll do the thing that nobody involved thinks is necessary to satisfy Kyr’s ego—but I’m not doing it because you told me to,” he directed at Kyr, an accusing finger tapping the squad leader on the chest.
Kyr did not respond. Probably for the best. He was probably seething—he had a temper just as bad as 8ball, but he was usually a little better at handling it. Plus, it was typically reserved for just 8ball and 48. Myth and Course got a little more lenience from him—except for when one of them had two broken limbs and tried to argue against being helped, apparently? That was a new development, and he’d have to take it into account. Myth couldn’t remember Kyr ever blatantly disregarding protocol like that before, and it concerned him, but Myth hoped that they could convince Course to at least be a little kinder to Kyr in the medical report than he’d been in the canyon.
The transport shuddered as it landed in the hangar, jolting Myth out of his thoughts. Kyr put a hand on his back while Punch and Punt slid the transport door open. All ten troopers immediately poured out of the cramped space, more than eager to get away from the stifling air they’d been stuck in.
Kyr set a steady hand on Myth’s shoulder to both ground him and guide him through the cacophonous hangar. Myth glued himself to Kyr’s side, not eager to get nudged or shoved by any clone that didn’t put much stock in the idea of personal space. One of the best parts about being placed with Kyr was that he had a certain way of walking that made other people move out of his path. Even when he had full kit, just the set of his shoulders and the weight with which he stepped had even the brothers that didn’t know him scrambling to make space. In another life, he would have been a CC. Maybe even an RC. Myth didn’t like to think in “could-have-been”s, but that was one thought he couldn’t help but sit with sometimes.
People steered clear of Kyr because he was intimidating, in-control, and good at what he did. People avoided Myth because he talked too much and never gave a straight answer.
… It wasn’t quite the same.
“I want you to help me with this report,” Kyr said in the quiet of the sterile white halls, voice as steady and confident as always. Only the barely perceptible swivel of his head (searching for eavesdroppers?) told Myth why he wanted help.
“Do you think Course will really put your protocol breach in his report?” Myth couldn’t help but ask. He wanted to backtrack immediately, nervous about speaking it into being. “I mean, he wouldn’t, right? That would hurt all our chances at a decent placement. He was bluffing to get you to back off.”
Kyr didn’t answer immediately, steering Myth into the cafeteria. Not many troopers had found it in them to eat yet, so the usual chatter was a pleasant murmur. They got in line, Kyr ahead of Myth. Myth didn’t comment on Kyr filling his tray for him.
Kyr took him toward the far wall, leaving a couple tables of buffer for any incoming troopers who preferred to hug the wall outright, and they sat together at a round table. It was only once Myth took the first bite of his meal that Kyr answered his question.
“He said he would, so he will. He might let 48 talk him into being a little forgiving about it, but he won’t go back on the threat.”
Anxiety burst through Myth’s chest, freezing tendrils wrapping around his heart. He tapped his foot on the metal leg of the table. If one of the biggest outliers of their performance in their reports was that Kyr had ignored protocol, they would be lucky to get a placement at all. The idea of the Kaminoans reading that, deciding they wouldn’t get deployed after all, and putting them back in training popped into his head and refused to leave. They could hold them back. Use them as an example to any of the ninth-cycle cadets getting too big for their helmets. Or they could recondition Kyr and send them all to a moon where he'd never get the opportunity to break protocol ever again, even if he wanted to.
“Myth. Myth! Hey.” The warmth of Kyr’s hand between his arm plates snapped Myth out of his thoughts and reminded him painfully that he had been shot earlier. “We can make it work. That’s why I want your help. There’s a reason they use us instead of droids.” His voice dropped a bit, careful not to be overheard in the relative quiet of the mess. “If I can give a really good reason why I didn’t listen to Course, we’ll be fine.”
He wanted to wave it away. If they could justify the decision effectively enough, Kyr’s hardheaded decision could prove the benefit of using clones, not the drawbacks. It could work. It could at least keep them away from the attention of the wrong people.
 “Okay. Okay. You—have you started the report? I can help.”
Kyr exhaled, and Myth watched the crease between his eyebrows relax as he removed his hand from Myth’s arm to take another bite of his food. “I did inventory and expended resources on the transport. Finished everything up to the… attack, on the way into atmo. Once you’ve eaten, we can head to the barracks and finish it. I need to submit this—soon. I got an alert when we landed that they’re reviewing and assigning us ASAP.”
Another quick bolt of anxiety raced through Myth. “Already?” He set his spoon down. “I don’t—we don’t have to eat. We can work on it now.”
“No. Eat your food.” Kyr nodded at Myth’s tray. “You’ve had a long day, and you barely ate before we left.”
Myth stared at his nutrient mush, mouth suddenly dry. “… It’s really fine. I’d rather get the report out of the way.”
Kyr sighed, and Myth shrank back a bit. “How about this. You eat, and I’ll start working on it. I’ll ask you for your help as I need it.”
“… Okay.”
The mush did not grow any more appetizing as Kyr put on his helmet and started tapping at his bracer. Myth knew he was looking at the report draft, but between the emotionless visor and the rapid typing, he exuded an aura of annoyance that did nothing to ease Myth’s discomfort.
He began poking at the mush. Really, it wasn’t appetizing on a good day—not since they’d changed its consistency. Where before you could at least pretend to chew it, the new mush was almost slimy. It made the exact same taste seem vastly less appealing.
When they’d originally made the change, Myth hadn’t been able to stomach it. He’d tried—really, really tried, but he couldn’t manage to eat more than a bite at each meal before his rolling stomach stopped him. He’d given his portions to 8ball for a week before his body started to get too weak for their squad training. Despite the physical issues, the real catalyst that had forced him to start eating again had been his specialty track scores. The brain fog that came over him had resulted in him getting the worst scores he’s pretty sure any information analyst had ever gotten. He never scored great—he could never settle on a single strategy, and the trainers never let him forget it—but the threat of detracking looming over him was more than enough to make him push through the nausea.
He'd gotten used to it. Eventually. Staring at the goop now brought him memories of the way he threw up the entire meal the first time he’d managed to make himself eat all of it. Not fun memories. He’d gotten odd stares from all the other squads in the mess, and more than a couple cadets had laughed at him. He’d been dragged off to the medbay by a droid and poked and prodded for an hour before it declared that he must have eaten too quickly and sent him back on his way with a ration bar, since he didn’t have time to go back for a new meal before his squad training.
Myth took a deep breath, studying the glint of the overhead lights on the mush. “You sent Course with 48, 8ball, and Punt because Course has the highest scores in close-range fighting and the position of the SBDs at the intersection of the passes meant he’d be best positioned on the frontlines.”
Kyr didn’t have the audacity to pretend he’d originally had a good reason to send Course with the smaller group, so he nodded and tapped away accordingly.
Slowly, Myth lifted a small glob of nutrient mush to his mouth, swallowing it quickly. “… Course was ambushed by a Geonosian warrior. He was disarmed and lifted while the others were in the middle of eliminating the SBDs, leaving them unable to help quickly enough to prevent him from being taken. They split their focus between the remaining SBDs and the Geonosian—Punt and Eighty finished off the supers while 48, who was sent as backup, began to shoot at the Geonosian. When the last super went down, they focused all fire on the Geonosian. The increased fire provided enough distraction for Course to extract himself from the hold, and he fell.” Myth paused for a moment.
Kyr didn’t push him, continuing to tap away with increased speed following Myth’s massive information outburst.
Myth breathed in slowly, then out, then took another small bite of his food. In, out, bite. After a third repetition, he spoke again, slowly, but as firmly as he knew how. “Course hit his head against the rocks on the way down. Although he was verbal and cognizant, you did not think him fully aware at the time of his landing.” He paused again, air stalling in his chest until he remembered to breathe. “You expressed concern of Course’s ability to walk quickly enough to the rendezvous point. He only repeated the protocol for broken limbs. Believing him to be concussed and not fully understanding of the extent of the damage to his legs, you followed protocol to deliver stim shots to the affected limbs, as well as to his spinal cord in case of spinal injury and to hopefully alleviate the suspected concussion.”
Kyr nodded slowly, tapping with deliberate intent.
“Following the injections, you carried him through the majority of the mountain pass until you were certain we would make the rendezvous on time with his impeded pace.”
“So, we’re playing up the urgency aspect of it?” Kyr took off his helmet to take a bite of his own food.
“Course likely won’t include the exact timeline in his own report,” Myth reasoned, slowly growing more confident in his words. “His reports are very short. It’ll be something like ‘advised squad lead of protocol but was dismissed’.”
“I almost feel bad for implying he isn’t a reliable source of medical advice,” Kyr muttered dryly.
“For good reason,” Myth said mindlessly. “He’s never given us any reason not to listen to him before.”
Kyr went quiet, picking at his food for another minute before putting his helmet back on and continuing to fill out his report.
Myth made slow work of his mush. With his job fully completed, he wasn’t as anxious, but his hunger had already been spoiled. Not much any of them could do to fix that.
The rest of their squad would have long since made it to the medical wing by then. Myth wondered if he and Kyr would pass 8ball and 48 on the way to their barracks. He was pretty sure both of them had eaten all of their food pre-deployment, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be hungry. But if neither Kyr nor Course hounded them to go get food, would they…?
“Are you not going to finish your food?”
Kyr’s unmodulated voice snapped Myth out of his mind abruptly, and Myth stared as the goop dripped from his spoon back down to his tray. “… I’m really not hungry,” he mumbled.
Kyr sighed, and Myth shrank back a bit. Kyr shook his head. “It’s fine. You ate something, at least…”
Myth pushed the tray away from himself at the—not quite permission, but acceptance. He watched Kyr finish his own food in a couple bites, then stand.
“Well, we may as well go to our barracks,” Kyr said with another sigh. “Our training is cancelled for at least the next day cycle. I’m sure the trainers are trying to figure out what happens now.”
Myth stood with him, wringing his hands a bit as Kyr took both of their trays to disposal. “You submitted your report?” he verified.
“Yeah. It’s getting processed now.”
Shoulders relaxing, Myth found it easier to breathe. If their report was turned in, that meant it would be reviewed shortly. He wondered if Course would even have time to submit his medical report. He hadn’t been looking during the flight; had Course submitted it while they were still on the shuttle? Surely, they wouldn’t make judgements on placement before both reports were in.
Despite himself, Myth’s anxiety began to blossom into anticipation. If their generous take on the events of the day were taken at face value… Well, it wouldn’t look half bad. Only one major injury, 100% survival rate, and they followed instructions to a T.
“Myth.”
Myth startled guiltily, quickly turning to Kyr, who stood waiting for him. To his credit, he didn’t seem like he was actually annoyed with Myth’s spaciness, but the tired look in his eye and the tenseness in his back made Myth still feel like he was only adding on to his squad lead’s stress.
Kyr’s expression softened after a moment, and his next sigh was not nearly as severe as the last several had been. “Let’s go back to our barracks,” he said, voice gentler. “We’ve done our jobs. Now we get to shower and rest.”
Myth faltered for just a moment, then nodded. That nervous anticipation remained, but if Kyr deemed there to be nothing more they could do, then that was that. He stepped in beside Kyr and let himself be herded toward the promising chill of their sleep pods.
The walk itself held no surprises for them, but upon reaching the door to their wing, a small droid sat stationary. As they approached, its eyes lit up—eerie, opaque white windows—and its head swiveled toward them.
“CT-0105-203-0918-01.”
Myth’s eyes widened, and his attention snapped directly to Kyr, who looked as stricken as Myth felt to hear his full identification code spoken at him.
It took Kyr only a moment to recover from the surprise. “That would be me.”
The rest of the droid’s mechanics began to start up. Its boosters activated with a high whir, and it lifted itself a few feet to bring itself level with the clones’ eyes. “CT-0918, you are summoned to briefing room 27-8 to await orders. The rest of your squad may continue their designated recovery period.”
Myth couldn’t help but stare. Kyr’s expression schooled itself in a matter of seconds to something more confident, like he wouldn’t have expected anything less.
“Alright. Are you here to escort me?”
“Affirmative. Follow me.”
Kyr put a warm hand on Myth’s shoulder as the droid began to drift down the hall. “I’ll be back,” he said, promptly following his escort.
Myth stood in the hall for a few seconds after he lost sight of Kyr. Even though Kyr had told him that they would be placed as soon as possible, pulling squad leads to wait for results sounded like a sudden decision. How long before they were given their placement? How closely would the details of their reports be examined, really?
He wandered into the barracks in a daze, oblivious to the bemused glances he received from the other squads as he made his way to the Crown Squad bunks.
48 was the one to jar him out of his muddled state. “Did you hear? We’re going to be placed! Pull heard a nattie saying that the CCs were all reviewing the reports ASAP.”
Myth started to regret eating the caf food, given how much his stomach began to roll. The thought of a CC—a future officer—reviewing their messily spun report made him want to throw up again. What if they realized it was intentionally skewed? What if they pulled the security footage of the caf and realized Kyr asked Myth for help? Myth’s earlier paranoia of reconditioning sprung back to the forefront of his mind. Falsifying official reports wasn’t a light crime. Did this count?
“… hope we go somewhere busy,” he heard 8ball telling 48 from his place in his extended pod.
“Like Coruscant?” 48 asked, dubious. “You wouldn’t find me dead there. If I’m gonna get deployed, I’m gonna be somewhere I can show the clankers who’s the superior soldier. Can’t do that so close to the core.”
“I was thinking more like big warzones. Somewhere I can run around, y’know? Lots of fun angles to catch ‘em off guard.”
48 rolled his eyes. “So you wanna give Course a heart attack? Poor guy spent the whole time on Geonosis hovering over Myth’s graze. He wouldn’t survive somewhere busier.”
Myth realized then that Course wasn’t present. His pod was closed, and the panel suggested it wasn’t occupied. He glanced between 8ball and 48. “Is Course still in medical?” he asked.
 48 turned back to him. “Oh. Yeah, apparently his legs are super fucked up. The droid said it wasn’t that big of a deal, but they held him to make sure the injections didn’t get screwed by him walking around.”
Frowning, Myth nodded. That made sense.
“Did you get your graze checked out?” 8ball asked. It wasn’t said accusingly, but it didn’t need to be for Myth’s expression to turn guilty.
“I forgot,” he said. He really had. He hadn’t thought about it at all since Kyr put pressure on it earlier—he’d been quickly distracted by the borderline insubordination they committed.
48 shook his head. “It’s just a graze, and Course treated it anyway. Probably better to wait until the medbay isn’t so busy with the guys who really got injured.”
“Hope you’re ready for Kyr and Course to accept that answer,” 8ball warned. “They’ll be fussing the minute they figure you out.”
Myth moved to their storage bins and started methodically removing his armor. “I’ll go when it isn’t so busy,” he echoed 48. “They’re probably oversaturated with injured by now.”
A passing clone laughed, and Myth froze mid doffing.
“Don’t suppose they could fix your head while you’re there?” Myth did not turn his head, but the unknown brother kept teasing anyway. “Or is your condition terminal?”
“Fuck off, Hud,” 48 ground out. “You’re not any funnier today than you were yesterday. Or the day before that.”
“Just a joke, bud. I know you clowns are delicate, but you gotta lighten up.”
Myth saw 8ball jumping down from his pod from the corner of his eye.
“Yeah? We aren’t the ones that threw up in the dropships. Unless Bingo was misremembering when they told me about that?”
The passing brother—Hud—went quiet for a few seconds before hotly going, “It was motion sickness. We’ve never been in actual ships before, I couldn’t exactly help it.”
48 spoke again, evidently gleeful to learn this piece of gossip. “Delicate stomach, Hud? I didn’t expect that out of you.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Hud’s voice grew fainter, and Myth relaxed as he realized the other clone was walking away. “You guys’re gonna regret that in a year when I’m an officer.”
A hysterical laugh broke out of 48, and he collapsed onto his bunk in sporadic giggles as they were left alone again. “That dumbass? An officer? Over my dead body.”
8ball scoffed in response, walking over and beginning to help Myth remove his armor. “If he can’t even handle a little turbulence, you won’t have to worry about it.”
Myth bit the inside of his cheek, slowly continuing to doff his armor with 8ball’s help.
“I mean,” continued 48, “seriously, good on him for having plans, but really? He’s gotta find some more attainable life goals. Like surviving.”
8ball floated into Myth’s peripheral in the process of unlatching his rerebrace, and Myth watched him raise an eyebrow. “What, like you? Sir ‘I Can Become A Commando, No Really, It’s Entirely Feasible’—”
“It is!” 48 insisted. “Just because it hasn’t happened before doesn’t mean it won’t.”
Their voices faded out while Myth focused on removing his armor. He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t upset by the teasing. He never could—he just didn’t know how. 48 always did it without problem. Course and Kyr hardly seemed to blink whenever cruel words ended up being thrown in their direction. 8ball could give it back better than he got it. Why was Myth the only one that always shut down?
The teasing wasn’t even that big of a deal. It wasn’t malicious. Like Hud said, it was a joke.
8ball put a hand around Myth’s wrist, drawing his eyes up.
His brother wasn’t making a deal about it, but Myth could see the concern creased in his brow. “What about you?” 8ball asked, those creases easing a little while he spoke. “What’s your plan? Where would you want us to get sent?”
Myth took a moment to find his words, and when he did any energy from earlier was gone. “… Somewhere with an interesting ecosystem,” he mumbled.
8ball nodded, pulling him toward the ladder to the bunks. “That sounds good. I’d probably have good cover, too.”
“… I want to see different plants and animals.” Myth remembered his modules; he’d always gotten more modules and more in-depth modules than the rest of his squad, as an information analyst, and he remembered how many times he’d come back fawning over the flora and fauna of different planets. He understood more about the different lifeforms of Felucia than he understood about natborns as a whole.
“So definitely not Coruscant,” 48 laughed. “Unless stray tookas and criminal lowlifes count?”
Myth climbed up to his own bunk while 8ball responded.
“I think Course’s the only one who’d actually like us to end up there. Although, Kyr…” 8ball got a thoughtful look on his face. “Maybe.”
“It would be them,” 48 complained.
8ball did not climb back up to his bunk, instead sitting cross-legged on the cold metal flooring. “Well, wherever we end up it’s gonna be with Green Squad. I’m pretty sure they’re legally not allowed to separate us, what with Punch being Kyr’s handler.”
48 sighed. “Truly, a masterclass of a soldier. Able to lead without leading… What would we do without him?”
“Get chewed out. Constantly. And maybe killed,” 8ball deadpanned.
Myth weighed the merit of closing his pod. It wasn’t that he disliked his brothers bantering, but his nerves had been fried throughout the course of the past twenty-four hours, and the thought of them talking poorly about their squad lead in the middle of the crowded barracks made him want to smother them with his thin pillow. Best to just not hear it at all.
Despite his misgivings, Myth did not close the pod. Hearing his brothers joke like their world wasn’t changing irrevocably put Myth a little bit more at ease than he would be with his own thoughts, even if the jokes added to his overall stress. The lesser of two evils.
His compromise for this was to zone out. He didn’t have a datapad, which had been left behind in the rush of the first call to Geonosis, so he couldn’t study his modules—which, he hadn’t considered before then, likely would not be continued. If they were deployed, they would have no more time for educational modules. Would they just have to get by with briefings? Would the information analysts have time before engagements to study the terrain and wildlife modules for the planets they were being sent to? They wouldn’t always have time for that.
There were too many unknown variables. Myth couldn’t finish drafting a single plan without it being countered with a potential roadblock he hadn’t ever dreamed of two moments prior.
 Myth wasn’t sure how much time had passed between climbing into his bunk and the door to the barracks opening again. The Crown bunks weren’t terribly close, but it didn’t take proximity to figure out that the flood of clones entering were the squad leads. Within moments Kyr approached, fully absorbed in a datapad. A quick glance to Green Squad across the room confirmed that Punch had a matching one. Our orders.
All three present Crowns dropped down to the floor without hesitation.
“Well?” 8ball pressed. “Where are we going? What’s the verdict?”
48 clasped his hands together pleadingly. “Don’t say Coruscant.” he muttered. “Don’t say Coruscant, don’t say Coruscant, don’t say—”
“It isn’t Coruscant!” Kyr snapped, physically swatting at 48 without looking up from the datapad. Then, reading directly from the screen, he said, “Following the Green-Crown Unit’s performance at Geonosis, CTs—well, all of us, I’m not reading that—have been selected for deployment with the 212th Attack Battalion—”
“Led by who?” 8ball pressed.
“Do we get a Jedi?” 48 cut in.
Kyr finally broke eye contact with the datapad to glare at them both. “If you two would shut up for twenty seconds, I would answer those exact questions!”
Both of their mouths snapped shut, too excited at hearing about where they’d ended up to bother being nuisances.
“As I was saying,” Kyr muttered. “Let’s see… deployment with the 212th Attack Battalion of the 7th Sky Corps, lead by High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi and Jedi Commander Anakin Skywalker, alongside Marshal Commander CC-2224—”
48 interrupted again immediately. “2224?”
“Wrong focus,” 8ball shook a hand in 48’s face. “Hello? Who are the Jedi? We get two?”
“Jedi Commanders are Jedi apprentices,” Myth found himself saying. “The High General would be his mentor.”
“Second priority focus,” 8ball said pleasantly, physically covering 48’s mouth when it opened again. “High General? That’s for the corps, obviously. What about the battalion?”
“That is for the battalion.” Myth did a double take, but Kyr’s face stayed deathly serious. “The 212th Battalion’s only listed commanders and general are the same as that for the corps.”
“Surely that must be an error,” Myth muttered.
48 did not seem nearly as bothered as Myth was to learn this. “Oh, Hud is about to hate me.”
Kyr raised an eyebrow, but rather than question it, he said, “Only if he got deployed to the same battalion as us. We ship out first thing in the morning.”
Every new piece of information made Myth’s heart palpitate more sporadically. “First—? But—Course…?”
“The wounded will be transferred to the medical bay of the Star Destroyers,” Kyr said emotionlessly. “From my understanding, we’re being transferred to Coruscant, where our home ships will be designated, and the Jedi briefed.”
48 sighed bodily, but 8ball’s eyes lit up. “This really is just starting, huh?”
“Very suddenly.” Myth’s mouth felt dry.
They’d had ten years and yet no time at all to prepare. Course’s legs were broken. 48 had just barely reached the final stage growth requirements last cycle, and Myth wasn’t any of them had ever passed their exams with anything more than a “Permissible” score. How had they ended up in a High General’s battalion? A Marshal Commander’s battalion?
Something had gone wrong. He couldn’t be more certain, but none of his brothers seemed to be nearly as concerned. The Kaminoans are using us as fodder, his mind whispered traitorously. We’ll all be dead in a month.
An attack battalion of this calibre had to have sandbags to throw at the front lines. That would be the Crowns—and Green Squad, unwitting but unavoidable casualties in the crashing dropship that was the Crown track record.
Myth felt ill.
But looking at his brothers, 48 and 8ball excitedly scheming and dreaming up all of the crazy battles they’d surely see and even Kyr cracking a smile in their beaming presence, Myth couldn’t find it in himself to say any of his thoughts aloud. Instead, silently, he returned to his bunk. He would skip his shower for now.
His brothers noticed his movement, quieting down a bit as he moved, but Myth didn’t bother sitting in his extended pod. Instead, he climbed directly in and closed it, flimsy pillow over his head as though he could still make out any of the words in the barracks beyond. He didn’t think about their odds—or the disaster that had followed them from decanting to deployment. Instead, he recalled the way Course had twisted out of the grasp of that Geonosian. He remembered the excited sound 48 had made when he got his first confirmed kill, and the way 8ball had clapped him and 48 both on the shoulder when the mission was complete, when it was time to move to the rendezvous.
He and his brothers weren’t fodder. They weren’t meat droids, and they weren’t going to die easy. Not after they’d made it as far as they had. In a way, the hard part was over. They’d never had a simple day in their lives, on Kamino. Geonosis… hadn’t ended well. But up until Course got picked up, it was the closest Myth had ever come to feeling like they were doing something really right.
Remembering Green Squad truly put Myth’s racing heart to rest. As long as they had the Greens, they would be fine. Maybe he didn’t have quite enough faith in his own batchmates, but their brothers from Green Squad were needed to temper some of the worse habits of the Crowns. The thought of being deployed without Punch to temper Kyr or Pull to make sense of Myth’s own nonsensical plans was just a bit nauseating.
He remembered Course pulling him aside to repatch his arm, and the way Kyr had insisted on carrying Course out of that canyon. He remembered 8ball’s adrenaline-filled hurtling back to their unit, pursued by a squad of B1s who weren’t prepared for what Green Squad and Crown Squad had in store for them.
They would stick together, and they would survive. They always looked out for one another.
They would be fine.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I still hate web tumblr. Why can't I just insert a line? Why have the gods forsaken us?
Chapter 3 is in an interesting purgatory atm but the accompanying ficlet has been written for literally like 6 months, so there's that.
Chapter 1 (Tumblr)
Chapter 2 Spotify Playlist Here (Spoiler Free, I believe)
AO3 Chapter 2
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aceredshirt13 · 2 years
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On what occasions does Ryunosuke Naruhodo get paid?
(inspired by this post)
THE GREAT ACE ATTORNEY: ADVENTURES
Case 1-1
Defendant: Ryunosuke Naruhodo
Does Ryunosuke get paid? Unless the economy worked much differently in the Meiji period, Ryunosuke unfortunately cannot pay himself.
Case 1-2
Defendant: Also Ryunosuke Naruhodo
Does Ryunosuke get paid? There wasn’t a trial, so he couldn’t pay himself even if he could pay himself.
Case 1-3
Defendant: Magnus McGilded
Does Ryunosuke get paid? Nope, because in canon he blatantly refused to take any money from him due to McGilded’s obvious murder energy.
Case 1-4
Defendant: Soseki Natsume
Does Ryunosuke get paid? I’m pretty sure Soseki has about five shillings to his name, and none of them are going to Ryunosuke. He’d probably try to pay him a tiny bit, though, and Ryu would refuse.
Case 1-5
Defendant: Gina Lestrade
Does Ryunosuke get paid? Even if she weren’t a homeless teen stealing to stay alive, there’s no way in hell Ryunosuke would charge her a cent. She’s long since been absorbed into the Baker Street family unit. No escape.
THE GREAT ACE ATTORNEY 2: RESOLVE
Case 2-1
Defendant: Rei Membami
Does Ryutaro Susato get paid? Given that Ryutaro is neither a real lawyer nor a real person, there is no way any payment could be legally given - and since Rei is Susato’s closest friend, Susato wouldn’t take it even if she could.
Case 2-2
Defendant: Soseki Natsume again
Does Ryunosuke get paid? If anything, Soseki has even less money than he did previously. So I seriously doubt it. Maybe he pays him back for both trials once he becomes a successful author?
Case 2-3
Defendant: Albert Harebrayne
Does Ryunosuke get paid? Oh, he absolutely does. Yes, Ryu may have said that he didn't need a monetary reward after Albert said he'd have given him all the grant money if he could, but Albert was so so grateful to him that I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to repay him again later (beyond gifting him the little scientific journal he was published in as a memento). And even if Albert's insistence is turned down once again, well... let’s just say Ryu will be getting a significant check in the mail, whether he wants to or not, from a certain wealthy - and very grateful - prosecutor.
Cases 2-4 and 2-5
Defendant: Barok van Zieks
Does Ryunosuke get paid? Once again, very wealthy prosecutor, very handsome check. And it definitely helps when the defense attorney in question literally uncovers and unravels everything you thought you believed about your family and the world at large, positive and negative. I feel like that deserves a handsome check.
BONUS CASES
Escapade 8 - In The Bailey
Defendant: Herlock Sholmes
Does Ryunosuke get paid? Knowing Herlock, almost certainly not. But Herlock appears to be giving him room and board free of charge, so that’s honestly probably enough to cover this fever dream of an accidental parakeet assault case.
DLC Case 1 - Japan Side
Defendant: Kazuma Asogi
Does Kazuma get paid? Kazuma is following in his partner’s footsteps by also not being able to pay himself. Even if this trial wasn’t a farce.
DLC Case 2 - London Side
Defendant: Iris Wilson
Does Herlock get paid? He better fucking not. I know how Herlock is about trying to get money, sometimes even from Iris, but given that almost the entire thing was his fault (despite his, and Iris’s, actually very sweet intentions) and the fact that technically the charges were dropped, I’m gonna say that he isn’t getting monetary compensation from her. At most, Iris might perhaps pay him in tea.
In conclusion, thank God Ryunosuke and Susato had a stipend and a place to live rent-free, because otherwise they’d have starved to death before Barok could put any money in their bank account. (Or perhaps they’d have been more willing to take McGilded’s money, despite the murder energy.)
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agerefandom · 21 days
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Okay I'm headed to bed BUT feel free to let me know if there are Hazbin/Helluva characters you'd like to see headcanons for! And I'm also going to take some drawing requests for tomorrow.
I also updated my fandoms list so although I'm not currently opening all my requests, you can check that out so you can make plans for future requests!!! Or you can always send me your own headcanons if you have any to share!
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